


The Elasticity Of Love

by catherineisa



Series: Prompt Fills [2]
Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Forgiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:00:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24433963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineisa/pseuds/catherineisa
Summary: "Liz. I know you and I know you're angry with me, but." She cuts him off, she doesn't want to listen, she doesn't need to. She knows the story. She knows everything she needs to."Don't call me that, and really? You know me? because I feel like I don't know you at all. Tom"
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen & Dembe Zuma, Elizabeth Keen & Donald Ressler, Elizabeth Keen & Raymond Reddington, Elizabeth Keen/Tom Keen | Jacob Phelps
Series: Prompt Fills [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762387
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	The Elasticity Of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Takada_Saiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takada_Saiko/gifts).



Elizabeth didn't know why she'd agreed to working with Tom again. He'd lied to her so many times, she'd just now gotten over it, ~~somewhat~~. There was no way to tell if he's telling the truth at any given time. It's possible that this whole op is a lie as far as she's concerned.

Tom is driving and Liz is listening to a wiretap that Reddington gave her. Tom keeps side-eyeing her, obviously wanting to say something. It takes about five minutes before Liz can't stand it anymore and snaps. 

"Stop." That one word is enough to make him blanche. He retreats into the door as if he's afraid of what she'll say. It takes a minute before he can gather his thoughts. All he says is "I'm sorry."

She scoffs at that, laughing dryly and looking at the window, toward the building they're surveying. An old store which is small, old and abandoned. She breathes heavily and tries not to get angry. She tries to release the tension in her shoulders and ends up shuddering viciously. She remembers the old schoolyard saying 'Someone has just walked over your grave' Tom tries to touch her arm and she twists it away from him quickly, nearly hitting him with it. 

"Liz. I know you and I know you're angry with me, but." She cuts him off, she doesn't want to listen, she doesn't need to. She knows the story. She knows everything she needs to.

"Don't call me that, and really? You know me? because I feel like I don't know you at all. Tom" 

She punctuates his name in a condescending manner. She's officially angry. She has every right to be angry though. 

Finally the car is silent and she can watch the raindrops in peace, betting in her head which one will get down the glass the fastest. She's always wrong. That's why she prefers to observe people, there's comfort in the fact that people have tics, they have little signs that tell you what they're going to do. Little twitches, turns, movements.

Then again though, she never knew that Tom had been making everything up. So maybe she's not as observant as she thought.

 _Drip drip drip._ She keeps watching the raindrops. Trying not to think about anything at all.

It takes about ten minutes of silence for her rage to subside. By then the contract killer has exited the warehouse. He's looking in their direction and she makes the mistake of making eye contact with him. She tries to play it off but he's walking in her direction now and she glances around the car and in a bout of quick thinking grabs Tom's sweatshirt and pulls him in. She kisses him forcefully. His lips are still as soft as the last time they kissed and she briefly wonders if he still carries around that stupid Chapstick. She tastes vanilla and it affirms her curiosity. 

She releases him from the kiss and he looks dazed. She quickly opens the car door and grabs her makeup bag from the foot of the car getting out. She quickly thinks of something to say.

"Okay. Wish me luck. I hope I get the job."

"Me too honey. See you at home." She knows he's messing with her, but secretly she misses him calling her that, she doesn't notice that he does too.

The contractor gets into another car, no longer worried about her. She's glad she's not wearing her sidearm. She makes a show of looking both ways before crossing the road. 

The man drives of just as she ducks into the alley next to a small hair care place. Sally Beauty or something. She pulls out her cell phone and types out Tom's number. 

"I knew I'd be glad I didn't ditch this phone eventually. What do you want me to do, Honey? He says the last word lightly, but sardonically. He's _definitely_ mocking her this time. 

"Shut up and follow him. Be discreet." She ends the call and starts walking. 

She can't help but think about the kiss. She tries to think if she's kissed anyone since him. She blanks. She should still be angry but she finds she can't muster up the will. 

At first she walks until she's distanced enough from the district to call a cab, then she needs to think and decides against the whole thing. Plus she doesn't like cabs too much. There's too much to think about so she tries to categorize it, but she needs paper to do that properly so she streamlines it. Tom-bad-maybe- no she decides she can't simplify it. It's too complicated. Reddington has made it too complicated. Without Reddington she would never have talked to him again. She thinks about how he drove them apart in the first place. How Reddington himself didn't trust Tom, Enemy of your enemy is your friend. That's just it though isn't it, Reddington isn't her enemy. 

She wants to scream but it comes out as a strangled groan. She's nowhere. In seven minutes she's walked about six blocks and she needs to distract herself so she decides to break out into a run, she clutches her small makeup bag in one hand like pearls. She's running and surprisingly she's not crying. She usually cries when she thinks about Tom for too long. About Sam and about Tom. 

It's twenty minutes and she doesn't know where she is anymore. Twenty five and it seems like someone is following her so she stops. She doubles back and is going to try to lose them when she recognizes Dembe's face. She's always baffled how such a kind man can stick himself with such a monster. Although after working with Red for some time she can no longer call him a monster, even in her head. 

She stops and huffs out a breath, she needs water, and a break. She feels her muscles pulse with the work of the exercise. It's not such a bad feeling. It's takes a minute for her to catch her breath and as soon as she does she wipes her face and gets in the car. Even with the cooler weather the light jacket she's wearing and the run have caused her to sweat. She's still breathing a bit heavier when she climbs in, throwing the bag and plopping down. Reddington regards her with something akin to caution. "Take me to the Post Office." She looks at Reddington, then at Dembe her features softening considerably when she addresses the second man, adding. "Please." 

Dembe smiles at her and nods. "All right, Elizabeth." His accented voice is smooth and it comforts her. Reddington hasn't moved since she's gotten in and he's in a comfortable position holding what looks to be a glass of water in his other hand. She gives him an odd look. 

"I don't like those plastic bottles. Plus Dembe here says they're bad for the environment. I trust him implicitly. If it spills. It means we've crashed. He's a careful driver." He pulls out a larger, metal vaguely water bottle shaped canister. "Want some?" She nods enthusiastically, quickly toning it down. He chuckles. 

He gestures in the general direction of the small bag and raises his eyebrow as he pours her a glass. 

"Quick thinking. I was spotted." She downs the glass, and breathes out appreciatively. 

"Hmm. Oh yes. Tom informed me of that. I was just wondering if there was a possibility it could be something else. Curiosity killed the cat, but they do have nine lives after all. I've had my fair share as well." 

He lets her out at the post office and says that he's got 'other business to attend to' it doesn't matter much to her though and she thanks Dembe for the ride. 

Tom is standing near Aram's workstation and Aram looks wholly uncomfortable. She whistles loudly with her fingers and nearly everyone looks up at her. She's past the point of being embarrassed with her co-workers and she gestures for them to go back to whatever they were doing with a downward hand movement. She then gestures somewhat aggressively towards Tom and Aram let's out a palpable sigh of relief. He nods thankfully towards her and she smiles tiredly at him. 

She's all the way into the designated break room when he grabs her arm and tells her to slow down. There's no force behind it and for a moment he looks like he would if they were in their kitchen making dinner and he pulled her away for a dance. For a moment her heart aches for old blissful ignorance. She's exhausted, anger does nothing except make her need a nap. She maneuvers her arm away from him. Carefully this time. So as not to hit him this time. 

"Can I just tell you the whole story. Everything. Over coffee. We could start over?"

"You don't drink coffee though." She looks up at him, no particular expression on her face.

"Maybe you know me better than you think Liz." He smile softly at her. Regretfully. 

She hums lightly. They're interrupted by the Post Office elevator opening and Ressler hauling the criminal in by the scruff of him collar. 

Tom pushes past her lightly, putting his hand on her arm so as not to jolt her. She doesn't shake him at all this time, he's too distracted to notice. 

She thinks it might be time to heal. Maybe start over, she thinks also that with all the crazy things to happen that maybe the world and love are just complicated enough to give them a chance. 


End file.
